Z - Zigging a Zag
by Bdoyle
Summary: Skye's in trouble again but gets a reprieve as she searches for answers no one can give In a different twist comes a tale the Coulsons will never realize


**Z – Zigging a Zag**

Trip half walked/half stumbled into the kitchen, one eye closed the other only half opened. He rubbed the back of his head and dragged his bare feet to the coffee pot on the counter. Fitz plopped a mug down a second before his brother poured the hot liquid onto that counter.

"Don't think you're quite awake yet, are you?" He smirked as Trip jumped at his voice. "Late night?" Fitz waggled his brows.

Trip snorted once as he hip butted his younger brother aside and reached for the sugar bowl. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Not really," Fitz remarked as he watched Trip shovel several spoons of sugar into his cup. "Mom would probably tell you that was way too much sugar."

"Probably," Trip agreed around a yawn. "Get the milk, little man," he smiled as he hip-butted Fitz toward the refrigerator.

Fitz opened the refrigerator door and grabbed the milk, setting it on the table at the same time his brother slid onto a chair. "I think breakfast is done, but we've got some of that cereal with the raisins in it." He offered.

Trip held up one hand, shook his head and rubbed his eyes with the finger and thumb of the other hand. "No, no this is good."

Fitz sat down and watched as his older brother poured a bit of milk into his java and stirred it without once opening his eyes. "Is this how it's done at the Point?" He wondered.

Trip let his hand fall to the table and stared at his brother as if the kid was speaking in some foreign language he'd never heard. He blinked a few times then shook his head. "No, Fitz, I'm just tired. I got in late last night."

"More like early this morning," Fitz guffawed.

"I had a late class and I missed the bus. I wanted to get here…." He stopped and rubbed his eyes again, looking toward the commotion just outside the back door. "What is all the yelling about?" He started to stand but stopped when Fitz put a hand on his forearm.

"It's just Skye up to one of her shenanigans. Mom's been calling her for about an hour and she hasn't answered. She's put herself well past the angry point." He shook his head.

Trip took a breath and sat back down. He took a gulp of coffee and Fitz wondered how he could drink it when it was so hot. "What ya mean, shenanigans?" He looked at his younger brother who did not seem disturbed by their baby sister's apparent disappearance.

Fitz shrugged his shoulders. "You know, shenanigans, tomfoolery, monkey business or as usual in Skye's case willful disobedience." He shook his head. "She'll more than likely be spending the afternoon in her room nursing the sting off her arse."

Trip almost laughed the hot coffee into his nostrils. Fitz was so blunt and so blasé at the same time.

"It isn't funny, Trip." The younger boy reasoned. "She's done this a few too many times and Mom has warned her about it as well. Some things just don't seem to click with our little sister until Mom drives home the point. If you know what I mean."

Trip swallowed another gulp of coffee and smiled at his brother. "Hmmm, speaking from experience are you?"

"Perhaps," Fitz nodded. "But I don't think I was ever as pigheaded as that one."

The both turned as the back door opened and a frazzled Melinda stormed into the room. Jemma followed a few steps behind looking much more worried than her mother was angry. "She hasn't gone far, Momma. Her bicycle is still in the yard and her sneakers are on the deck."

"And when has going barefoot ever stopped Skye?" Melinda growled through her teeth. "Damn it, I won't be surprised if we find her butt naked dancing down the middle of main street."

Fitz snickered but stopped abruptly at his mother's glare. He swallowed once then wondered. "Did you look beneath the deck?"

"First thing," Jemma nodded.

"She's nowhere in the house, then," Fitz added. "I've checked every room twice and every closet three times."

"What about the garage?" Trip asked, finishing the last mouthful of coffee.

Jemma shook her head. "Not there either, but you never know with Skye. She could be right under our noses and wouldn't make a peep."

"Some kind of super sleuth," Fitz smiled. "Da says she'll make a great spy someday."

"If she lives that long," Melinda growled, pulling open the basement door.

"Looked down there," Fitz called after her as she descended the stairs. He shook his head and turned to his brother and sister. "Twice, actually and no she's not in that space behind the wash machine. That was last time and baby sister never does the same thing twice." He shrugged his shoulders and headed for the back door. "Guess it's time to circle the block." Looking over his shoulder at Jemma, he quipped. "East or west?"

The young girl sighed as she followed him out the door. "I took west last time."

"East it is then," Fitz sighed as he pulled the door closed.

Trip stood for a moment listening to the quiet of the kitchen and his mother's mumbled Mandarin cursing a floor below. He shook his head. Apparently nothing had changed in the months he had been away at college.

xx

Ten minutes later Trip had changed from grey sweatpants and a bare chest to every day street clothes. He stood on the deck and surveyed his parent's property. Jemma was correct. Skye's bike and sneakers were cast off and lying on the grass a few feet from the bottom step. If he wasn't aware of the current situation he would just assume the kid had dropped them there before skirting into the house. But it had already been determined that Skye was not inside the house.

Trip bounced down the stairs and headed for the basketball court. He paused at the enormous lilac hedge covered in light purple blooms and recalled the day his baby sister disappeared through a hole in the fence. It had long since been repaired, even replaced by a new fence just last spring. Even so, he was pretty sure Skye would not fit through that hole these days. He took a few steps then stopped and looked at the bush again. Oh, what the hell? It was worth a look anyway. He parted the foliage and peered into the shady underbrush. The arched hide away was still there and from the looks of it, well used. He pictured his little sister there, scheming her schemes and plotting her exploits or just daydreaming as she looked up through the mottled light the leaves provided. It was a perfect Skyed-away.

But not today.

Trip stepped back and moved to the basketball court, now used by his little sister since Fitz's path had taken him in a different direction. Not that Trip ever doubted it would. He picked up the basketball from one of the chairs around the old metal table, dribbled it twice and tipped it toward the basket. It sailed right through, just like Fitz had told him it would if he remembered his formulas correctly. The young man smiled at the memory and the fact that Fitz probably understood the game better than any of the coaches in any league.

He watched the ball bounce until it simply rolled to the back of the garage and wobbled a bit before stopping. Another memory of this basketball court made him shiver. He shook it off.

Where the hell was Skye?

Past the court and around a row of chest high shrubs Trip stood and looked across the pool the family had installed a few months back. It was still covered for the season. May was just a bit too cool for swimming and if Phil had removed the cover Skye would pester every day to dive in even if the temperatures were still in the mid sixties. He shook his head and walked around the locked gate and fence that circled the area then stood glancing across the wide back yard. He wondered if Fitz had mastered the art of that old ride-on lawn mower, then laughed at the very thought. Hell, the kid had probably taken it apart and built a whole new engine. Maybe he even got it to run itself like the kid always imagined it would.

The yard sloped down at an easy angle where the dirt path led through a shaded area to the back gate. He could see from where he stood it was closed and locked. So unless his baby sister had scaled the old wooden fence she hadn't left that way. In the corner of that part of the yard was Jemma's potting shed. He remembered building it with Da and Fitz while the little girl stood and doled out directions. She used it regularly and in the shade of the ancient oak Da had put a swing big enough for two. He smiled to himself thinking the man had put it there more for himself and Mom on those cool summer evenings than he had for Jemma's enjoyment in the afternoon's warmth.

Above in the same tree was the tree house, also built by the three Coulson Carpenters to give Fitz a special place just like Jemma's. He and his kid brother had spent many summer nights sleeping out in their tree fort.

'Hide-out,' Trip thought as he looked up through the branches at the study structure. "It couldn't be that simple. Could it?" He asked himself, out loud.

There was a rope ladder that led to the fort but Fitz was not such an athletic kid and froze halfway up on two occasions. Da hammered slats into the tree to create a ladder the boy could more easily climb which solved the problem. Trip looked at it for moment then tested the first rung. It held, to his surprise as he pulled himself up the ten feet from the ground and poked his head through the hole that served as an entrance.

It took a second for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior, his head and shoulders in the tree house while the rest of him remained on the ladder. It didn't look much different. A few crates served as seats and tables. Goofy collections of rocks and gears and jars of whatever the hell they put in them lined the walls. A dark make-shift curtain hung over the one window and there in the corner just behind a rather tall on end crate stuck out a very familiar line of toes. The pink sparkly polish was a dead give away.

Trip shook his head and pulled the rest of his body into the fort, keeping his head low before sitting down and folding his long legs in front of him. "Girl, have you lost your mind?" He smiled as the toes disappeared into the shadow. "Too late, baby girl, too late," he laughed.

Skye pushed aside a flimsy black shade that hung from the ceiling and peered out at him. "Is Momma real mad?" She scrunched up her face as she stood and brushed the twigs from her hair.

"Is Momma _mad_?" Trip repeated, incredulously.

Skye flopped down and folded her own legs in front of her. "Guess I'm in trouble again." She groaned as she dropped her head into her hands, elbows resting on her knees.

"Guess you get what you go looking for, girl." Trip reached out and ruffled her hair with one hand.

Skye let out a fluttery breath but said nothing. Trip glanced around the small area and smiled. "Like what you've done to the place. The lilac paint gives it a whole new atmosphere."

"Jemma was crying." Skye answered, pretty much ignoring her brother's remark. "I heard her."

Trip was confused. He narrowed his brow and looked at the little girl who was staring at the floor. "Jemma's fine, Skye. I just saw her."

Shaking her head, but not looking up, Skye disagreed. "No, in the night, she was crying in the night. I heard her and I went in her room. I wanted to make her not be sad but she told me to get out. She said it was none of my business." The little girl let out a long sad sigh and mumbled. "I just wanted to help."

Trip scratched his head. He didn't remember anyone crying, but his room was quite a distance from the girls' since he'd moved to the spare one on the other end of the house, giving him and Fitz a little breathing room. Before he spoke again he noticed a framed picture on one of the small shelves attached to the wall. He knew it had not been there when he used this space as a hide out. It was definitely Jemma, but she was much younger and smiling even though her front teeth were missing. There was a woman holding her, smiling just as broadly and Trip knew it was Elizabeth Simmons. He'd never met the woman but he'd seen that photograph many times…on the dresser in Jemma's bedroom. It had been there since the family moved into this house more than five years ago. He reached over Skye's head and took the frame.

"Where did you get this?" He asked without trying to sound accusing.

"I took it." Skye shrugged.

"Because she told you to get out?" Trip was appalled. Skye was many things but never vindictive and certainly not mean.

"No," the little girl wagged her head, drawing out the word into almost a tune. "I took it a long time ago. She turned and pulled a second frame from the shelf then handed it to him. "I took that one too." She huffed and dropped her forehead to her knees.

Trip held one frame in each hand and stared at them alternately. He recognized the second one despite its blurry focus. A stout woman holding a curly tow-headed toddler, that was no doubt Fitz, stared back. The young man shook his head. "Why would you take these Skye? You know how much they mean to Fitz and to Jemma."

Skye shrugged her shoulders without looking up and spoke into her knees, "dunno…"

Trip pursed his lips. He could not imagine what would make his sweet little sister do something so spiteful. "Skye, these are the memories the twins have of their moms. You have to give them back." He said as his eyes widened.

Skye looked up with tears in her eyes. "It isn't fair." She almost shouted, reining in her voice at the last minute. "They know the ladies that made them alive and I don't have anything. They get to look at their eyes and remember and Momma lets them, but I can't…I can't see my lady." The little girl swiped her arm across her nose and scrubbed away unwanted tears.

Trip drew in a breath and felt the little girl's pain. He had very little memory of his own mother, but there was that little bit. He looked at the shelf again and noticed the corner of something jutting up. He reached and took it. Sure enough it was a creased and crinkled photo of Sheela Triplett holding a tiny pinched faced infant. It was probably the only photo he had of his mother and he kept it hidden in the back of his desk drawer. He was pretty sure no one ever knew he had it, not even Gram. He let out a long whistlely breath and shook his head.

Skye peeked up at him from beneath her arm that wrapped around her knees. "That one was hard to find."

Trip's brows narrowed as his tone became firm. "Girl, I should take you over my knee myself. Scratchin' around in my personal belongings…in my room…" He shook his head and regretted his words as the little girl scooted back and out of his reach. He rolled his eyes and took in the size of the place. "You don't have to worry. There's not enough room in here for a proper swat." He let out a frustrated breath then drew in a cleansing one. "I'm not mad at you, Skye. I just don't understand. You took these because you didn't want us to remember our birth mothers?"

Skye shook her head and still spoke into her knees. "I took 'em because I wanted to have memories. I look at them and pretend the lady that made me a baby loved me like your ladies did."

It occurred to Trip that Skye never referred to those _ladies_ as mothers. To the little girl that was all they were, ladies in photos from times she never knew, lifetimes she never shared.

"Why didn't she want me, Trip? Why don't I have a picture like all of you do?" The little girl finally looked up, tears streaming down her face.

"Com'ere," Trip whispered softly as he reached across the short expanse and pulled her into the cradle of his cross-legged lap. He squeezed her and rocked just a little then kissed the top of her head. "I know Momma and Daddy have told you the story of how the Sister's found you, Skye. I know you know there wasn't much, but how about we do this." He bent low to look into her eyes. She merely raised her eyebrows in response.

Picking up the pictures he'd laid on the floor he held them out to her. "We'll put these back where they belong and you apologize to the twins."

"They'll hate me," she sniffled.

Trip smiled and one-arm hugged her, resting his chin on top of her head. "Never," he assured her. "They might be a little upset but I think they'll understand."

Skye let out a breath over her lip, ending with a pop sound but nodded her agreement.

"Good girl," Trip smiled. "And I promise I will do whatever it takes to find out as much as I can about how you got left on those church steps."

"Really?" The little girl's mood brightened. "You'll find out what happened."

Trip put a finger over Skye's lips. "No promises. They never found out anything when it happened so we don't have much to go on and it might take a very long time."

Skye wrapped her arms around her big brother's neck and kissed his cheek. "I love you, Trip. Not just cuz a this. I just love you all the time."

He hugged her back and kissed her temple. "Okay, then let's get out of this mini mansion before I can never straighten my big body again." Skye giggled at his comment as she crawled off his lap and stood.

Trip pushed his long legs out and let them drop into the hole in the bottom of the tree house then sat a bit as the feeling came back to them. He pushed himself forward and let his body slip through the opening then climbed down into the cool fresh air. Skye followed down the first few rungs then jumped to the soft grass at the base of the tree. She reached up and took his hand but after a few steps pulled him to a stop.

"Do you think Momma's real mad?" She squinted up at him.

He reached down and swept her up into his arms, laughing. "Oh, baby girl, she is way past mad."

"Do you think she'll spank me?" Skye's look turned desperate.

Again the young man laughed and patted the little girl's backside. "I think you're gonna be in the hot seat for quite a while, girl."

Skye let out a long sigh and wrapped her arms around her brother's neck as he marched toward the house.

xx

Melinda was beyond angry, bellowing at the little girl that hid behind her brother's legs. She pointed toward the stairs and ordered her to her room ignoring any explanation the child might attempt to offer. Skye scurried past her mother, down the hall and up the steps before her older brother began offering an explanation of his own.

Melinda dropped into one of the kitchen chairs as tears ran down her cheeks. Skye had never said anything and yes, Jemma was crying. Yesterday was Elizabeth Simmons' birthday. It was always hard for the young girl and the only day of the year that Jemma was cross and belligerent. Melinda allowed it, knowing it would end in a flood of tears and regrets. She too had heard the girl's sobbing and gently took her into her arms, letting her release all of that anguish despite being told to 'bug off'. It was a ritual. Jemma would cry herself to sleep and wake in the morning back to herself. One day to mourn for the mother who would not be there for all of her accomplishments and milestones, Jemma let herself have that one day.

She stared at the three photographs spread across the table and felt at a loss for a solution to this unforeseen problem although she and Phil had always known the day would come. They knew that Skye would question her birth and the circumstances surrounding her abandonment but she thought it would be years away. She looked at the damaged photo of Trip and his mother.

"She was a beautiful girl," she breathed, handing it back to her eldest son.

Trip took the photo and stared at it for a moment. "I don't remember," he sighed. "She wasn't around much and then…" He looked up as he pulled out his wallet and tucked the photo into it. "Then there was Gram and Pops and well," he felt his cheeks grow hot. "I've got a mom. I don't need to look at someone I don't even remember in an old photograph." He pushed the wallet back into his pocket and bent to kiss Melinda's cheek. She smiled and gently patted his cheek. Trip stood and looked toward the stairs. "Go easy on the kid," he smiled.

Melinda let out a breath and shook her head. This was not going to be easy.

xx

At first Skye was resigned to just take her punishment and be done with it, but when Melinda entered the room the little girl broke into uncontrollable tears. It wasn't unusual for Skye to be crying when Momma came to deliver what she'd earned for whatever hare-brained scheme she'd created, but this was different. This wasn't a ploy to get Melinda's sympathy and perhaps rethink the walloping she deserved. It wasn't for the coming sting of Momma's hand on her backside, it was truly a heartbroken sobbing.

Melinda sat on the edge of the bed and opened her arms. Her baby dove into them and cried bitterly. She tried speaking through the tears but nothing was intelligible so Melinda just rubbed her back and rocked gently, holding the little girl close. After a lot of those tears and a lot of tissues to match, the sobbing quieted and Skye drew shaky breaths against her mother's chest.

"I'm sorry, Momma." The little girl cried in staccato speech.

Melinda pulled her closer and kissed her forehead. "Hush, baobei, you need to calm down. Just breathe with Momma for a little bit." She drew deep breaths and motioned for Skye to do the same.

The little girl did as she was told, breathing in rhythm with her mother until she drew and exhaled in a normal pattern. She closed her eyes and relaxed against her mother's chest listening to the thumping of her heart and the familiar tempo that calmed her dread. Melinda continued her slow rocking and gentle rubbing of the child's back. After a few minutes, Skye sat up straight and looked into her mother's eyes. She swallowed hard and blinked away the tears that lay on her lashes.

"Is it time?" She asked just above a whisper.

Melinda tucked the little girl's stray hair behind her ear and shook her head. "No, spankings today, baobei." Then she furrowed her brow and scolded. "But you really deserve one." She leaned forward and let her forehead touch her baby's. "We'll just call it an IOU." Melinda smiled.

Skye looked confused. "Why, momma?"

"Why?" Melinda laughed. "I thought you'd be happy, but if you'd rather…" She tugged the little girl toward her lap.

"No…" Skye easily squirmed out of her mother's grip. "I just don't know why not, when you're so mad at me." She sniffled twice and took the tissue Melinda offered.

Letting out a soft sigh, Melinda explained. "Trip told me about your little talk in the tree house." She bit her bottom lip as Skye's gaze fell to the floor. "Baobei, why didn't you talk to me? Why didn't you come to daddy and me when you were so upset?"

Skye shrugged her shoulders. "I didn't want you to get mad at me." She mumbled.

Melinda placed two fingers under the little girl's chin and drew her head up to look in her eyes. "Skye, daddy and I would never be angry with you for trying to find out about your mother."

Skye shook her head. " _You're_ my mother! _My_ Momma, my _only_ momma that I love forever and ever," she almost shouted at Melinda. "You… _only_ you. I don't need to know about any other mother only you." Tears were streaming down the little girl's cheeks again as she gasped for each breath. "And Daddy is my daddy, my real and only daddy in the whole wide world." She wrapped her arms around Melinda as if clinging for life. "I don't want anybody else…" she sobbed into the embrace.

Once again, Melinda shushed and rocked the little girl, helping her to regain her calm with slow breathing and listening quietly to her mother's heartbeat. When the little girl could speak again she drew a shaky breath.

"I only want to know what happened, Momma. I just want to know why, like Trip and Jemma and Fitz know why they're here instead of with the ladies that made them be born. I don't have any rememories like they do." Skye explained in a quivering voice.

Melinda smiled at the fractured language her youngest still used when upset or nervous. "Oh, baobei you were so little. I don't think anyone can remember back that far. People don't remember things that happened before they were three and, my sweet baobei, that's when you came to us." Melinda kissed the little girl's hand that she now held in her own.

"But I remember Sister Claire," Skye sniffled.

"Yes, you do, sweetie, because she's always been a part of your life. She always will." Melinda assured her.

"Do you not want me to want to find out?" Skye looked up over her brows, not sure she wanted to hear the answer.

Melinda thought for a moment then pulled the little girl back to her heart. "Oh, baobei I wish there was a way we could find out but everything the Sisters knew is in your records and I've always told you the truth. That's all there is."

"Trip said he would try," Skye sniffled with the tiniest shred of hope.

Melinda wasn't sure if she wanted to hug her eldest or slug him. Hope was great thing, but some things were lost forever they could not be hoped back into existence. She held her baby close and rocked her gently. "I know you want there to be something, Skye so I will talk to Daddy. We'll decide what we might do to help you, but…" She pushed the little girl back to look into her eyes. "You'll have to understand that we might not find anything more than we already know."

Skye bit her lip and nodded.

Melinda smiled and took a deep breath before letting her hands drop to her knees. "Okay, then lets go wash your face so you can talk to your brother and sister about what happened to their photographs. Then you can spend the afternoon in your room thinking about how important it is to answer me when I call you."

Skye's eyes popped opened as her chin dropped. "But…"

Melinda raised a finger. "I said no spanking. I did not say no punishment." She tilted her head and raised her brows.

Skye let out a heavy breath as her shoulders dropped. She stood and schlepped toward the door then turned back to look up at her mother. "Momma?"

"Yes, Skye," Melinda smiled.

"Does the IOU mean I get a spanking when I didn't do anything or I get two next time I'm in trouble?" She scrunched up her face as she asked.

Melinda tapped the little girl's nose with the tip of her index finger. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see, won't we." She grinned as she set a hand on Skye's head and spun her easily toward the door.

The little girl rolled her eyes and tossed back her head as her mother steered her down the hall.

xx

 _Everything has a story…so does everyone. Even the things we will never know have a history, scenes to play out with a beginning, a middle and, sometimes sadly, an end. This is one of those stories…what happened on that rainy night and what lead to it._

 _This is story Skye Mary Claire Mieying Coulson would never know, a story lost in oblivion, known only to time._

 ** _May 1992_**

She stood watching the slow moving car that passed outside the ramshackle building. Another drug deal, she supposed or some John trolling for a not so high end call girl. This wasn't the best part of town. Fact was it would have to step up to be in line for the worst. The light that shone through the boarded window wasn't nearly enough to illuminate the room and the batteries in the lantern she'd stolen from someone's porch were almost dead. She only used it when she absolutely had to have light.

A soft snuffly noise drew her attention and she moved from the window across the dark room. Looking into the small crate she sighed, unsure of what to do or how to do it but definitely ready to try. She lifted the tiny form and held it close, tugging up her dirty shirt until the newborn found its way to its source of nourishment. The girl never imagined herself nursing an infant. She remembered how she turned up her nose and gagged at the disgusting prospect of it, but babies need to eat and she could not steal formula as easily as she pilfered other things.

The girl also never thought she would bring a tiny baby into the world on her own, without a doctor or a hospital but she'd managed right here in this horribly dirty building infested by more cats than she'd seen in her lifetime. At first that seemed terrible but it turned out the cats yowls sounded eerily like a crying baby so no one would notice the new tenant and as a bonus they kept the rats away.

She looked down at the tiny form that suckled with more strength than she imagined something so small could have. This baby was small, a lot smaller than she thought babies should be but she'd had no prenatal care, no doctors or visits or vitamins or even good nutrition. She was amazed that after everything they'd been through that both of them had survived this long. The infant pulled away from sucking and blinked its almond shaped eyes at her. She wrapped the blanket with pink and blue bunnies that she had stolen from the Thrift Shop around it and gently propped it up on her shoulder, patting gently like she'd seen women do in the past. She didn't really remember where but somehow she knew a well fed baby needed to burp. The infant did not disappoint and offered a small urp after only a few seconds. She bounced the little bundle as she paced across the floor and wiped the tear from her cheek.

"We can't stay here much longer, baby." She told the little thing. "I don't think it's very safe for us"

 ** _February 1991_**

She'd been alone for almost two years, living in cars, boxes, even an industrial sized dryer. For a while, when it got too cold to sleep outside, she'd found shelter in the library. It was big and warm and no one really bothered you if you kept quiet and took care with the books. She'd raided another Thrift Shop and even stopped at one of those church charity things where they just gave you clothes in an effort to make herself look presentable.

It was where she met him. It was where she met Matthew.

It was an accident really. She'd crashed into him as they rounded the end of a row of shelves, she with a copy of Great Expectations¹ and he with a stack of books on subjects she could barely pronounce. She helped him pick them up quickly, fearful of the watchful librarian that might toss her out for causing a ruckus. He smiled as he handed her the small book that was definitely not one of his.

"Dickens," he nodded. "Lit major?"

She couldn't believe it. Here she was barely fifteen and he thought she was a college student. She let him. It was just easier than having to explain why she was in the public library at one in the afternoon. They sat at the same table that afternoon quietly discussing the weather and other things that meant a lot of nothing. She watched him go, to return to his studies at Georgetown and smiled at the one on one attention she'd shared for the first time in forever.

The library was a great place. It was huge and had so many little nooks and crannies where a person could get lost…or hide until the lights were extinguished and the doors were locked. The girl enjoyed the long quiet, warm nights especially after she found her way to the basement and a large washroom that was probably used by the cleaning crew. She was able to bathe or at least wash in the large tub with hot, _HOT_ running water and curl up near the steam pipes that lead from the bowels of the city into the old building keeping it toasty while the snow swirled outside. She trained herself to wake before the morning crew arrived and found another place to hide until the place got busy. She also remembered to visit a different section everyday so no one started to get suspicious. Reading was never her strong suit but she started to enjoy the different titles she chose as the days rolled past.

It was a week before she saw him again in the same place, at the same table. She wondered if it was on purpose, if maybe he was looking for her. But that would be silly. Who would look for her? Then he saw her…from across the large room…he saw her and waved. She looked around before wriggling her fingers back to him. He pulled out a chair and pointed to it with a smile and a nod. She tried not to run, not to look as needy as she felt as she moved toward it.

"Hi," he said simply as she sat on the offered chair then slid a small book toward her. "Silas Marner²," he nodded toward it. "I thought you might enjoy it."

She nodded and they met every Wednesday after, discussing the books he offered every time. She made sure she finished each within the span of that week. She never thought she'd enjoy discussing stuff like classical literature but Matthew's soft voice made it sound like some kind of hypnotic music.

He bought her lunch and they walked in the park. He invited her for supper and she panicked until he agreed it would be something light and casual, nothing fancy. They enjoyed a Big Mac at the nearest McDonalds and laughed over the silliness of it. He promised next time it would be a little less fast foody. She didn't care. It was the finest meal she'd had in months.

They spent more time together than she imagined and the winter melted away, March became April and April slid into May. All that time she managed to hide her social status as well as her age a secret. He invited her to his campus, introduced her to his friends and finally took her to his room.

It wasn't the first time for her. There had been others but not like this. He was kind and gentle, never asking for more than she was willing to give, never giving more than she wanted. She woke in the morning with him smiling at her. They dressed and shared breakfast in the university cafeteria. Then he was off to finals and she floated across the campus to the subway that would take her back to the library.

At first she walked on air feeling the first tendrils of real love wrap around her but the fear set in quickly. She was fifteen, he was nineteen, almost twenty. She was a fair haired girl from the Midwest, alone in a city she had run to escaping a violent home life. He was a handsome second generation Chinese-American man from a very well to do family. Even if their ages were similar this would never work. She valued his friendship but this had to be the one and only time. She made her way back to the library and found herself in a small study room sobbing into a wad of towels she'd taken from the lavatory.

But it wasn't the last time. They met again a few days later and the week after that and finally the last day of the school term. That morning she did not wake to his smile but to a concern that opened a gap in the pit of her stomach. He had to return home, he told her, Aberdeen, Texas. His father's business was there and he expected the young man's help throughout the summer. She understood and nodded when he said they would keep in touch. He asked for her phone number.

She made it up.

Same with email

And Matthew disappeared from her life.

A month later she knew she was pregnant. The test she stole from CVS confirmed it.

The same day she stopped at the bottom of the library steps as two police officers started down. The head librarian stood at the top glaring at her.

And she ran.

It was summer and the group that lived in a homeless community under the bridge outside of town accepted her readily. She stayed there until the authorities forced them to move on. Temporary friends moved away and the girl started over again. For a few months she managed to hold down a job as a waitress, earning a meager wage, but enough to buy food and actually _purchase_ a warm coat from the Thrift Shop. It ended when the owner found her sleeping in one of the booths during the first snow of the season. The money ran out quickly and more than once she felt the stillness in her belly meant the baby had not survived.

There was a church that offered cots on cold stormy nights and she found herself there more often than not, refusing any help any of the Sisters tried to offer. She told them it was temporary and she would be home soon. She told them her family was coming for her and didn't care if they believed her.

 ** _April 1992_**

She found the run down cat infested building a week before the pains began. She thought she was dying. There had been no way to keep track of time and she wasn't really sure when it had actually happened. The puddle that formed on the floor between her legs was a shock and the pains came fast and furious. Two hours later the baby slipped out and she collapsed. When she woke she was bloody and weak. For a moment the world was a blur then the scratching scuffly noises brought her to her senses. She crawled across the floor and picked up the bluish body that lay there, crying at the thought that the little life had been snuffed out before they had a chance to meet, She was wrong, the cold little body moved the slightest bit and she cried again. She cried for the child that did not then pulled off the hoodie she wore and wrapped the tiny creature in it. She used a piece of glass from the jagged window frame to cut the cord and tied it tightly with the string she pulled from the same hoodie. They slept the rest of that day and most of the next, curled into a tight ball while those blessed cats kept the rats at bay.

The crate wasn't hard to find. Someone tossed it next to one of the dumpsters on the next block. Water was a little more difficult but it collected in an old wheelbarrow she pushed under a hole in the roof.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." She cried as she wiped the grime from the baby girl with the cold liquid. The baby's lip quivered but she did not cry. She hardly ever cried and when she did it was so little she barely heard.

The first week was hard and she struggled to keep her own strength so the baby could eat. She stole the blanket a few days after giving birth but dared not return to the store fearing the grumpy woman who collected the few dollars people who had money could afford to pay. Diapers were almost impossible but she managed to steal a few towels from an open linen truck and ripped them into several more to keep the baby clothed. Washing them proved a bit more difficult and after a few days she risked sneaking out of the supermarket with several new born Pampers she pulled from the box she accidentally opened while examining it. They were so little they fit in most of the spaces created by her too large clothing.

 ** _June 1992_**

But time was not on her side and things quickly got out of hand. After a month the girl could barely care for herself let alone a tiny newborn that needed so very much more. It looked like Matthew with dark hair and big brown almond shaped eyes. She let the little thing nurse then wrapped it in the blanket and sat against the wall staring down at it.

"It's not your fault, baby, but this isn't going to work. We're both going to starve and that's not fair to you. We can't stay here. It's dangerous for both of us." She shivered at the fact that her foot had gone through the floor of the rotting structure just this morning. Even most of the cats had started to disappear.

Outside the thunder rolled and the room lit with a flash of lightning. She pulled the blanket over the little form and moved away from the leak in the flimsy roof. The storm lasted for more than an hour and the odd creaking in the structure began to frighten her. Now the rats were gone and somewhere in her mind she remembered someone saying that rats would dessert a sinking ship. She struggled to her feet, pulled the bundle to her chest and stepped carefully to the rickety staircase that led to the exit. It groaned beneath her feet and she hurried to get to the bottom. It pulled away from the wall and rocked back and forth as she screamed and reached for the rail with one hand, gripping the baby tightly with the other. It fell away leaving her stranded at least four feet from the ground. The rocking slowed and she moved down three steps before jumping the rest of the way. Keeping her balance she ran for the door and burst into the street blinking up through the rain as several crashes echoed inside the rotted building. Puffs of dust exhaled out the spaces between the old wood like some big dragon had just collapsed inside. She was sure the second floor was now part of the first.

Before she could react the lights of a car wobbled down the dark street and she pulled behind a row of barrels to stay out of sight. She held her breath as the vehicle slowed to a stop then eased past and disappeared into the darkness at the end of the road. She pulled her light sweater around her neck and hurried toward the intersection that led to a more lighted area.

The girl walked until she had to stop. The baby was fussing, probably hungry or needed a change but she hadn't thought to take anything other than the blanket. It was late, probably after midnight. She slipped into the doorway of a closed market and lifted her soggy sweater to let the little thing eat. The strength of that little mouth made her smile. This baby was a fighter. This baby had a chance.

But not with her

This baby needed more.

She burped the little thing and stood once again walking toward the lights of the city. There were places, safe havens they called them, places where someone could leave a baby and no one would ask a question. She hugged the little thing closer. It would be warm and dry and have diapers and clothes and food that would help it grow. She hoped it would grow because she hadn't given the poor little thing such a great start. The tears mingled with the raindrops on her cheeks almost blinding her to the police car that approached. She ducked into the dark space between two buildings and waited for it to pass. She saw it then, almost glowing in the eerie light formed by the pouring rain. A gold cross, high above the other structures in the neighborhood she had wandered into aimlessly. She'd hoped to make it to a fire station or a hospital where medical care would be available immediately, but a church was the next best thing. She looked toward the lights still miles away. She had no money for the subway and someone there would surely report her to the transit police.

Crossing the street she changed direction and headed in the toward the cross. It was farther than she thought. Six blocks and two turns later she still had a way to go and fatigue as well as disorientation slowed her. She stumbled twice almost losing her grip on the now slippery wet blanket. The third time she went down on both knees and one palm but never lost the bundle she cradled close to her chest. She sat and watched the rain wash the blood from her scraped knees but the baby was safe, asleep in her arms. The girl pushed herself up, crossed the street and rounded the corner. She stopped and looked up at the large church in the middle of the block.

She rushed up the stairs with the last of her strength and pulled on the massive door. Locked. She leaned against it and slid to the concrete landing below. "I'm sorry, baby. I don't know what else to do." The little almond shaped eyes stared up at her as the tiny arms flailed without reason. The baby blinked and the girl used her thumb to gently wipe the water from the long lashes and the tiny thing smiled.

The girl looked up into the falling rain. "I can't keep you, baby. I can't give you what you need. You need someone to love you, and I'm afraid to do that. If I love you I can't do what's best. But I can't help it. I just want you to know I'm not leaving you because I don't want you, but I love you too much to let you live like I have to. You're too little and too beautiful to have to be so tortured." She slipped to the side and laid the little form on the wet step. "Don't worry, someone will come. They'll find you and everything will be alright. I promise. Someone will love you as much as I do right now and they'll love you forever. I know it." She sobbed as she picked the little bundle up and kissed its head, one tiny hand rested on her cheek and a deeper sob escaped her throat.

"You won't remember me baby, but I'll always remember you." She whispered, putting the bundle down then stood. "Be strong, baby, be strong." She stepped backward down one step then ran down three more before she turned and stared at the tiny form, arms still waving in the rain. She stepped up one step then turned and ran, wiping tears and rain and rain and tears as fast as she could.

The girl ran blindly until she thought her chest would burst. She ran without direction and without stopping for anything. She did not see the car or hear the horn.

An hour later, Father Anthony Serefini found the bundle wailing in front of the church's main door. He'd come from a visit at a local hospital, giving last rites to an elderly parishioner. He gathered the little girl into his arms and made his way around the church and down the block to the Sisters of St. Agnes.

 ** _Present Day_**

"It's unusual to have a former resident visit after so long," the tall slender nun smiled as she led Phil and Melinda down the hall to her office. Skye walked between them gripping their hands tightly. "We did look into your inquiry and you must understand that in most cases this information is considered confidential. In your little girl's case, there is very little to tell. We have no record of a birth mother or father." She shook her head and addressed the wide eyed little girl. "I'm very sorry, Skye."

"Father Serefini found you early in the morning." She told Skye what she already knew. "He passed away two years ago." The nun shook her head as she spoke to Phil and Melinda. "The police were notified and I believe they investigated for months but found nothing. There was a terrible storm that night, if there was any trace of your mother left behind it was washed away. I'm sorry." She said again and Skye believed she was.

"We don't have any police records here." Again she addressed Phil and Melinda, "but I am sure if you asked they would tell you almost the same thing. I believe it's called cold case." Phil nodded his understanding. "I searched this myself," she sighed. "I hoped with a new set of eyes I might find something they missed. I did find something." She smiled.

Skye blinked a few times then looked to her parents. The nun moved to a box that set on the desk. She pulled out a baby quilt, white and covered with pink and blue bunnies. She held it out to the little girl. "It's the blanket they found you in, Skye. It's yours if you want it." The nun smiled and waited for the little girl to take the item.

Again Skye looked to Phil and Melinda, wordlessly begging permission. Phil nodded and she ran a hand gently over the fabric before taking it from the tall nun. "It's really mine from before, from the lady that put me there."

"Your mother, yes," the nun smiled.

Skye stared at the blanket then looked up at the Sister. "Not my mother, just the lady that wanted me to _find_ my Momma. She made me be borned so my Momma's heart would pour her love all over me."

The nun nodded her understanding. What a wonderful way for the little girl to understand adoption.

Melinda pulled her baby into a tight embrace, hugging the blanket as well, the only link she had to the woman who gave her this precious gift she could never repay. She blinked away the tears that threatened to fall as she mouthed 'thank you' to the nun who nodded back.

Hours later she tucked Skye into bed with Salty at her side. The blanket lay folded under the little girl's pillow. One corner stuck out and Melinda could not help staring at it. The feeling in her stomach was a mixture of nausea and impossibility. It terrified and mesmerized her. Of course there had to be hundreds of these blankets, maybe thousands across the country but she recognized the pattern. It was the one and only thing she had purchased when she actually believed that in vetro fertilization doctor could perform a miracle. She'd kept it folded in the bottom of a drawer planning to give it to Phil when she was definitely with child.

That never happened and when it was more than apparent she would never carry a child to term, she pulled it out and dropped it into a donation barrel at some church. It had to be at least two years before her baby was even conceived. Was it possible that that very same blanket somehow made its way to protect the child that was left on the steps of St. Agnes? Was it possible it found its way to the baby that would fill the emptiness in her heart?

That was impossible. Melinda knew that. She bent and kissed the little girl's cheek.

But miracles do happen.

xx

Skye climbed into Melinda's lap two days later and wrapped the blanket she'd been fascinated with since Monday around them both. She smiled at her oldest brother as he watched from across the deck.

"Take our picture now, Trip." She wrapped her arm around Melinda's neck and smiled at the young man.

He nodded and clicked the digital camera three times just to be sure. Skye bounced up and ran to see the image on the small camera screen.

"Can you make it now?" She bounced in front of her brother already tugging him toward the house.

Twenty minutes later she hopped back into Melinda's lap with a framed picture in hand. "Look, Momma! Me and you with my blanket from when I got borned. Me and _my_ momma I get to remember just like the other kids." She kissed Melinda's cheek. "I'm gonna put it on my dresser just like Jemma!" She smiled as she squirmed to the deck and rushed toward the door. "First I'm gonna show Daddy." She stopped with one hand on the door knob. "Trip don't put yer camera away, kay? Momma kin I have anuther frame just like this one…no, kin I have two?"

Before Melinda could answer, the little girl continued. "Please, Momma. Pleeeeeeeeze?"

Melinda nodded and Skye jumped up and down before racing back and kissing her over and over. "I gotta get Daddy. Don't move, kay Momma? Stay right here. I needa picture with Daddy and then one with you _and_ Daddy." The little girl stood on tiptoes as she drew out the word. She was already through the door and yelling for Phil before her mother could respond.

Melinda smiled as Trip shook his head. He nodded toward the blanket now folded on Melinda's lap. "I guess she just needed a connection," he smiled.

Melinda patted the item and smiled back, the miracle would be her secret. Maybe it wasn't true. Maybe she just needed Skye to have that connection. Maybe the lady that borned her needed it too.

"She's already got a momma." He smiled as he snapped a picture of the woman who was Mother to them all. He'd add it to the framed pictures that lined the shelf in his dorm room. Bending down, he kissed the woman's cheek. "We all do."

xx

The girl never made it to the hospital. She gave up her life en route. Cause of death was listed as blunt force trauma caused by vehicle mishap. The driver was not charged. No one claimed the body so the girl, determined to be between fourteen and eighteen, was laid to rest in potter's field.

The case remains opened.

 _¹Great Expectations, Charles Dickens, 1861, Chapman and Hall, London, England_

 _²Silas Marner, George Elliot, 1861, Blackwood, Edinburg, Scottland_


End file.
